per. You promised
aunt you never would.

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

H'm! I would have you know, Euphemia, that I have not absolutely broken
my pledge to Lady Twombley. I made Harris, the coachman, purchase this.
As you drive home drop it out of your carriage window.

[As LADY EUPHEMIA takes the paper from him her eyes fall upon a
paragraph.]

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

Oh! do they mean you, uncle?

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

Without doubt.

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

[Reading.] "The Square Peg!"

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

Hush! the servant!

[LADY EUPHEMIA crams the paper into her pocket. PROBYN enters, carrying
a small music-easel with some music on it and a flute in a case.]

PROBYN.

Here, Sir Julian?

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

Oh, do play, uncle!

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

[To PROBYN.] Thank you.

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

It will soothe you.

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

[Taking the flute from PROBYN.] My only vice, Euphemia. [PROBYN goes
out. SIR JULIAN sounds a mournful note.] This little friend has inspired
some of my most conspicuous oratorical triumphs. It has furnished me
with many a cutting rejoinder for question time. [He sounds another
note.] Ah, I know I am going to have such a bad night in the House.

[He plays. MRS. GAYLUSTRE enters with BROOKE.]

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

[To herself.] That woman!

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

[To LADY EUPHEMIA.] How do you do?

[LADY EUPHEMIA stares, inclines her head slightly, and goes to BROOKE.]

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

[To herself.] Haughty wretch!

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

Mrs. Gaylustre!

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

Oh, Sir Julian, don't, don't stop!

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

I thought I was alone with Lady Euphemia.

MRS. GAYLUSTRE.

I am waiting to see dear Lady Twombley. Oh, do permit me to hear that
sweet instrument!

SIR JULIAN TWOMBLEY.

Pray sit down!

[SIR JULIAN resumes his seat and plays a plaintive melody. MRS.
GAYLUSTRE listens in a rapt attitude.]

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

[To BROOKE.] That person is _too_ odious to me.

BROOKE TWOMBLEY.

Several people have taken her up.

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

Somehow, being taken up is what she suggests.

BROOKE TWOMBLEY.

She seems a sort of society mermaid--half a lady and half a
milliner--what? Only it bothers you to know where the one leaves off and
the other begins. Who is she?

LADY EUPHEMIA VIBART.

In prehistoric days she was a Miss Lebanon. Lord Bulpitt's son, Percy
Gaylustre, met her at Nice--or somewher